


too many to weather

by netya



Series: enrapture [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Experimental Style, F/M, Gen, Hilow Week 2018, One Shot, Post-Female Titan Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:58:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netya/pseuds/netya
Summary: quiet moments in the midst of a storm; Hitch is lonelyday 7 of hilow week, rain/seasonal rain





	too many to weather

Marlowe watches the wind scatter through bare branches, rustling the few desperately clinging leaflets and knocking them to the ground. It’s fitting, he thinks, that even the sky is painted with apathy -encroached by looming mounds of grey that wash away any hint of dusk’s russet glow. The usual heraldic banners have already been removed, walls of the courtyard soon to be soaked and dirty with a torrent of moisture. 

There won't be stars tonight.  


\--

The storm approaches quickly, sweeping through the city and shunting civilians indoors; the few unlucky members of the brigade required to man the walls spend their time grumbling and cursing out the higher ranks (locked away in the officer’s quarters for a particularly high-stakes game of poker), and glaring resentfully at Marlowe’s squad, mercifully off-duty for the evening. 

Marlowe takes little notice. He sits on the run-down couch in the small rec room and stares out the bar-hatched sliver of window, steady gaze unbothered by the slam of the heavy wooden door. 

Boris pages quietly through a novel beside him; neither of them looks up when the door swings open and Hitch enters, flouncing down across from Marlowe and immediately extending her socked feet into his lap.

“Hey, Marlowe,” she flirts, patting his cheek with her foot. He glances at her, taking in her distinctly not-uniformed state.

Boris packs up his novel and leaves. 

Hitch pats his cheek again. “Oi, Marlowe!” She pouts. “I’m right here, you know!” 

“Yes, I can feel that,” he winces, lifting her ankle away from his face. Her toenails are sharp, even through the wool. “What is it?”

“Oh, you know,” she smiles brightly, tilting her head. “How about this weather, huh? You seem to be enjoying it.”

Marlowe turns back to the window. Hitch falls silent, the leaden rush of water outside plink-plinking from gutter to glass in waves. 

“This is the perfect weather for lying by the fire,” she sighs. “Or even just,” she wiggles, settling lower into the couch “holding someone, you know?” 

Marlowe remains unmoved.

“It’s so dreary... that’s why you like it, right? You’re so stern, Marlowe,” she clucks her tongue. “Lucky for you, I don’t mind it. I think it’s a good look on you, matches your nose!"

He glares at her incredulously. She's delighted he noticed. “Honestly, it’s cold, and I’m getting gooseflesh! I must be getting sick.” She shivers theatrically, and Marlowe mutters something about her needing to wear more clothes under her uniform. She stares at him, sniffling, and finally he rolls his eyes and opens his arms for her to scramble into. She settles happily into his side, toes still propped in his lap.

“Hey, Marlowe.” 

He glances down at her, watching the reflection of the wicks on the windowsill flickering in her cat-like eyes. Her hair smells like orchids, bushy and soft against his neck. “What?”

“Do you think Annie’s okay?”

Marlowe tenses. He rests his head atop hers, and she melts back into the crook of his shoulder.

Marlowe listens to the rattle of rain on the windowpanes, thinking of the monsters that fought in Stohess; he thinks of the officers that joked, flighty and nervous, about the muscled female with blonde hair and icy blue eyes, a real titan knockout. He thinks about Annie’s empty bed and the hoodie Hitch pressed and fretted over, hanging loosely on its hook, waiting for her return.

“Yeah,” he tightens his arm around her side. She squeaks in surprise. “I think she’s fine.” 

\--

Hitch slips out of her room that night and sneaks into his, a worried slant to her lips that can only be smothered with kisses. They sit curled together for a long while, watching the starless sky through the iron, until her head drops against his bare shoulder and he maneuvers them back down to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Re-edited for Hilow Week 2018, un-beta'd. Comments and critique are always appreciated!


End file.
